Power To The People: The Black Market For Electricity In Kibera

Chris was born in Kibera in 1984, and to many he is a wonderful example of all that's good and possible in the Nairobi slum. He is known all across the settlement -- as evidenced by the number of times he is stopped to chat when I walk with him -- and is easily recognizable by his athletic swagger, charming gap-teeth and dreadlocks that have earned him the nickname "Rasta." He's a successful artist, an active and generous community organizer, and has strong family ties. Chris is also the largest supplier of stolen electricity on the eastern side of Kibera.

Chris' family, like most I've met in Kibera, consider education a priority, so he and his siblings finished Form Four (equivalent to American senior year of high school) and pursued advanced studies. Chris went on to become a professional dancer and musician and tours with a national performing arts group. His performance career supports him financially and keeps him busy; he rehearses or performs at least six days a week.

Somehow Chris still makes time to be a dynamic and accomplished community organizer. In fact, I first met Chris when my organization, Kounkuey Design Initiative, selected his group's proposal to be developed in partnership with us (we work with groups to design and build a network of public spaces that sustainably transform communities). As the main coordinator for "Power of Hope," the community-based organization he founded with his sister and a few others, Chris coordinates free breast cancer screenings, voter registrations and job training programs for women in Kibera. He even forgoes rental income on a structure his family owns so that women can use it as a place to meet and learn.

In addition to these many accomplishments, Chris has carved out a business that illegally supplies power to the unserved, eastern side of Kibera. I learned this months after meeting him as we were discussing solar power vs. electricity for our new site. I was sure I heard him wrong, so I asked again. He offered to explain via a tour. Standing on a footbridge, leaning against its railing, Chris pointed and said, "Houses on that side of the river have electricity; houses on the other side don’t" -- that is, until Chris shows up.

The process begins legally, when a Kibera resident or business on the "connected" west side applies for an electricity account with the power company. But before the meter is installed, a member of Chris' network has paid off the power guy to leave wires loose before the meter, which enables Chris and his team to bypass the meter and create a network of unregulated power to be sold to other residents. From the source, power is routed across the river to "transformers," which are nothing more than hubs of bare, tangled hot wires. The transformers are located in hard-to-reach places like high on poles or inside locked sheds to deter anyone except Chris and his business partners from accessing them.

Residential customers pay Chris 300 Kenyan Shillings (between $8 and $9) per month for power. As we walk and talk, Chris points to a bar and says, "That’s a customer, and they pay 1,000 [shillings] per month – they have TVs and use a lot of power, so they have to pay more."

There is little police presence in Kibera, but occasionally there are crackdowns on the black market for electricity, and individuals like Chris are detained for questioning. Chris could face hefty fines and jail time for what he does, but fortunately for Chris and his cohorts, authorities tend to ignore the issue. And if they look his direction, Chris has people -- beginning with the power company workers -- who will vouch for him because they are part of his system and profit directly from it.

When I first learned about Chris' illicit business activities, I thought we had been bamboozled. How had we chosen a criminal as our partner? And now that we knew, how could we continue working with him? I decided to lay my concerns on the table. Chris replied very matter-of-factly -- sure, there was some entrepreneurial spirit behind his work ("It's beer money," he said), but the reason he got into the electricity business was to serve real needs.

"You see, I've been told since I was a kid that electricity was coming to our area, but it has not," he explains. "Now, when there are talks of government upgrades, it is me at the table fighting for real transformers and solar energy. I’m even vying for Government Youth Representative to advocate for these needs." He realizes "all of those things would put me out of business, but I don't mind. For now, people need electricity, children need to study -- the government doesn't provide it to them, so I do. I'm an activist, not a criminal."